Reminiscing
by CrimsonRae
Summary: Alfred remembers. Set at the end of Batman Begins. One-shot.


A/N: Just a little something thathad been playing in my head and is now on paper. Read, review and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own what is mine.

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Gentle hands brushed away at the soot and charred remains of a house that once stood. The feelings of loss, regret and sadness were overwhelming with the confrontation of such a destruction, but Alfred knew that it would be made right in the end…it would just take some time.

Over thirty years he had stayed at Wayne Manor, over thirty years of memories he held very dear to him and only one of those memories did he wish to change. No, that wasn't quite right; he didn't wish to change it, but maybe that the outcome could have been better. The aging man remembered well the night he received the call informing him of the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He also remembered the haunted lost look in their only child's face.

Alfred paused inhis thoughts as his hand brushed up against something that felt like paper. Carefully, he brushed back more soot and picked up a black sheet from the ground. He vaguely realized that it what was left of an old photo. Tilting it to the light he could barely make out the forms of Thomas and Martha holding a wrapped bundle in their arms with his bleary eyes. A small smile touched his lips…he remembered that day as well.

In his mind he could see Thomas Wayne's proud smile as he looked down at his son for the hundredth time since they brought him home from the hospital. The gurgling noises the young master had made as his mother tickled at his chin followed shortly by Martha's own laughter. Alfred had stood off to the side with the camera waiting for the two new parents to forget that he was even there before he would take the picture. He chuckled as he remembered how Bruce had cried when the flash of the machine had struck his eyes…even then he didn't like having his picture taken.

It wasn't long after that Bruce began to walk and discover things on his own. He had always been a curious child much to his father's delight and his mother's dismay. Alfred couldn't remember how many times the young master would come into the house with a new scrape or bruise whilst getting dirt everywhere. Martha would gasp and asked if he was okay before Bruce bowled over her with a new story of an adventure he had while in the garden or with Rachel.

The older man shook his head as he remembered Thomas and Bruce playing hide and go seek in the manor one rainy day. Bruce had grown quite sullen at the fact that he wasn't allowed outside to play. The hot chocolate, Alfred had fixed him had cheered him up somewhat but his eyes would linger on the door leading out into the back. His father had noticed his son's mood hadn't fallen away as fast as had been hoped by all and had quickly sprung into action. Martha had gotten quite the fright when Bruce had popped out of the linen closet she had been standing by as she looked for an earing she had lost. The game that had started with two had quickly gained a third, as mother and son joined forces against Thomas.

Alfred's smile soon faded as he recalled the two had died not long after. Their death had been a marker in both his and Master Bruce's life. The aging man had suddenly found himself the guardian of a boy he had long considered his nephew. It was overwhelming to say the least and he wondered at times if he had been the right person to have been given such a responsibility. Bruce had never been the same boy after that night but that was a given. No one could experience such a travesty and not come out unscathed and Bruce…he was scathed.

Gone was the lively child who always was up for an adventure and in his stead was a quite young boy who kept those he still had left within his sight as much as possible. Alfred had blessed little Rachel's heart when she had taken Bruce's hand in hers one day and silently let her friend know she was there and he needn't worry.

The aging man grimaced as he recollected Bruce as a teenager. He hadn't been horrible per se…just very angry and very difficult. The one night Bruce had come home drunk had been his last. The young master had come home from school that day, changed his clothes and had been out the door again before the butler could say anything. Alfred had waited up until two when he heard the front door clamor open and Bruce stumble in. Rachel was next to him, her shoulder supporting her friend's weight as she tried to guide him toward the sitting room to rest.

She noticed the older man's presence a second later, "I tried to get him home sooner, but I couldn't get him to leave."

Alfred shook his head as he took his charge from her and led him to the couch, "I know how stubborn he can be, Miss. Rachel. No need to fret. Would like to stay here for the rest of the night?"

"..No." Rachel replied hesitantly, "I can get home okay. It's just…I've never seen him like that, Alfred. He's normally so careful about drinking anything…like he's afraid of something."

Alfred had raised an eyebrow and reassured the young girl that he would make sure Bruce would be okay. He had seen her home and was back watching over his passed out teenager in twenty minutes. He recalled with some sadistic amusement, the agony that his charge had been in the next day. Bruce had become less difficult to handle after that but the anger never went away.

As Bruce grew into a young man the anger just seemed to burn brighter than ever. It had worried Alfred especially since he wasn't able to keep an eye on his charge like he had once been able to. Only seeing the young man on holidays and even then that had been rare. It had all come to head though after Joe Chill's trial. The next time Alfred had seen Bruce he was no longer a lost young man but a grown man.

Alfred turned his head and viewed the young master…no, Master Bruce as he placed boards over the old well. He knew that if Thomas was still alive he would be proud of who his son had become, he also knew that if Thomas and Martha was still alive then Bruce wouldn't be who he is now. In some ways Alfred sees that as a good thing, but in others he wishes that his charge hadn't had to grow up so fast. The old butler paused as he watched Bruce bid Rachel farewell, the sad smile finding its place on his mouth once again. He would support the man before him the same way he had supported him in the past with ever constant vigilance and guidance when needed and with that parting thought he made his way up the hill and towards his charge.


End file.
